Deflection
by paperstorm
Summary: Part of my Deleted Scenes series. The tag for Monster Movie, 4x5. Wincest.


**Contains dialogue from the episode 'Monster Movie', it belongs to Eric Kripke and Ben Edlund.**

**Part of my Deleted Scenes series. Full list of fics in reading order available on my profile page. They will make more sense if read in order. :)**

* * *

Jamie thanks Dean for saving her – or, actually, probably for something else – while they kiss and Sam stands there uncomfortably and tries not to watch. It brings back a lot of memories of being around thirteen, when Dean was seventeen and spent the majority of his free time banging every chick who would have him; which was pretty much _every_ chick, because it's Dean and he was stupidly gorgeous even at an age when people are _supposed_ to be awkward. But Sam doesn't find himself caring as much as he should, as much as he _would_ have as recently as a few months ago. He spent the night alone last night which means Dean probably got exactly what he'd been looking for out of his bar-wench, although Sam won't ask and Dean probably won't tell, but Sam isn't all that bothered by it. Like always, there are too many other things to think about.

Eventually they say goodbye and she leaves, and Sam's not even lying when he says, "I like her."

"Feels good to be back on the job, doesn't it?" Dean asks, ignoring Sam's comment and changing the subject, which Sam's more than grateful for.

"Yeah, it does."

"Hero gets the girl, monster gets the gank, all in all, happy ending." He grins. "With a happy ending, no less."

Sam laughs reluctantly. "Real classy, Dean."

"Hey, all I'm saying is the Shifter might've had a point. It'd be nice if life was movie-simple. Although, if I was turning life into a movie, I wouldn't do this _Abbott and Costello Meet The Monster_ crap."

"Yeah. No, I know what you'd pick."

"No, you don't," Dean says, chuckling.

"Yeah, I do."

"No, you don't," Dean insists. "You don't!"

"Porky's 2," Sam tells him, and Dean's face freezes in a shocked expression.

"What?"

"You heard me."

Dean mutters, "Lucky guess," and walks away.

Sam smiles and follows him down the street to where Dean parked his car.

"Okay, how did you know I'd pick Porky's 2?" Dean demands as soon as he pulls the Impala back onto the highway, smacking his hand on the steering wheel and looking over at Sam accusingly.

"Because it's, like, your favorite movie of all time. I don't even like it and I've seen it probably twenty times," Sam answers with a smirk.

"Oh come on. Naughty high-schoolers take on the KKK? What the hell's not to like?"

"Maybe I don't like it _because_ you've made me watch it so many times."

"Yeah," Dean grumbles, only half-irritated about it. "Yeah, you would be stubborn like that. Not liking an awesome movie just because I'm the one who said it was awesome."

Sam chuckles. "Isn't that kinda my job? Little brother, and all?"

"I guess," Dean admits reluctantly, and Sam laughs again.

He turns the radio on and then they drive in silence for a while, and Sam's okay with that. He's got a lot on his mind the last couple of days and he's more than happy for a half hour of silence to sort things out in his own head. Mostly, Sam skin just itches. He doesn't want to admit it, but it's the blood. Or, the lack of it. He's never gone this long without it before. He meant what he said to Dean a week ago, he knows what he was doing with Ruby was too dangerous to continue and he's committed to stopping, but his body isn't quite so on board with the plan. His head is fuzzy and he's having trouble concentrating on anything, and sometimes his muscles twitch in a way that makes it feel like there are spiders under his skin. But it's bearable, and Sam's sure it won't last.

Then there's Dean. Sam doesn't know what's going on with his brother. Something is different about him, and after what he's been through Sam can't say he's surprised, but it isn't easy when Dean won't talk to him about. Dean let them be together right when he first got back, but he wanted Sam to top which was out of character for him and since then he's mostly been pushing Sam away and Sam doesn't understand why. And then last night he slept with someone who _isn't_ Sam, and Sam doesn't know what to make of that either. At first he thought maybe Dean just wasn't ready to let his guard down enough to be with anyone, but he seemed more than willing to spend the night with a girl he'd just met, so now Sam doesn't know _what _to think.

Dean's whole speech about his virginity being restored didn't make a speck of sense to Sam at first either, but then after he gave it some thought, he figured out that Dean probably didn't consider what they did that one night real sex, because Sam was the one who did the actual fucking. It's stupid, but sometimes Dean can be overly-literal like that, and Sam thinks that in Dean's head, in order for a guy to lose his virginity he has to actually put his dick in something. It's logic that could only make sense in Dean's screwed-up mind, but Sam's almost sure that's the reason Dean wanted to hook up with that girl. What doesn't make sense, though, is why Dean didn't want to lose his theoretically restored virginity by putting his dick in _Sam_. It used to be one of Dean's favorite things to do, and now he'll barely _touch_ Sam most of the time, and Sam would be lying if he said that didn't hurt.

He's not going to say anything about it, though. After everything he did with Ruby, the blood and the other stuff – even if that only happened once and Sam felt sick about it afterward because of what she is, and because it felt like betraying Dean even though Dean was gone – Sam doesn't feel like he has the right to be pissed at Dean about really anything. He feels like he should just be grateful that Dean didn't take off after he found out Sam had been lying to him; and even worse, all the things Sam was lying _about_. At the time, Ruby had Sam believing he was doing the right thing, but now he knows he wasn't, and he feels lower than dirt for letting Dean down. So Sam can't exactly blame Dean for not wanting them to be together anymore.

After maybe forty-five minutes, Dean pulls the Impala into a motel on the side of the highway, and gets them a room while Sam reads and ignores a text message from Ruby. She's been trying to contact him all week, and Sam hasn't been responding. He has no plans to, either. He sees now that he kept her around because he was so lost and broken without Dean. He doesn't need her anymore.

The room they walk into is tropical-themed; the wallpaper and bedspreads covered in palm trees and the cheap furniture designed to look like those Hawaiian Tiki statues. Dean rolls his eyes as soon as he steps through the door, and Sam shakes his head and laughs a little. He can never decide which is worse – hundreds of bland, cookie-cutter rooms that all look exactly the same regardless of what state they're in, or the ones like this, that try to be interesting and original but just end up looking like the decorator cleaned out some crazy cat-lady's basement.

It's another few minutes before either of them says anything. Sam takes his jacket and shoes off and flakes out on the bed, flipping through the few, fuzzy channels, while Dean putters around, going back and forth to the car a few times, looking for something he never ends up finding. Then he sits down on the other bed and they watch the end of some sitcom Sam's never watched before. It isn't particularly entertaining, but cable TV rarely is. Dean always used to say if they ever had a couple hundred bucks to spare, they'd spend the night in a real hotel room; a nice one on the 20th floor of a tower in a big city, with beds that are actually comfortable and room service and H.B.O. But they've had money to spare dozens of times over the years, and they've still never done that. Part of Sam thinks Dean wouldn't know what to do with himself in a place like that. Like it or not, crappy motels are sort of where they belong.

"So, did you mean it?" Dean says finally. "When you said you liked her?"

Sam shrugs. "I mean, I said like six words to her the whole time we were there. She seemed a lot more interested in you. But yeah, I guess."

"So, you're not mad, then."

He'd been wondering if that was going to come up. Honestly, Sam had been hoping it wouldn't. Recently, he's starting to think Dean may have been the smarter one all along with his policy of pretending uncomfortable emotions and situations don't exist. "You're a big boy, Dean. You wanna get yourself laid, you don't have to ask for my permission."

"That's not what I asked."

Sam sighs. "No, I'm not mad. Did you want me to be?"

Dean shrugs. "No. Just thought you might be."

"I …" Sam trails off and then doesn't speak for a while.

In truth, at first he was upset. Things between him and Dean haven't bounced _right _back to how they used to be, but they haven't been all bad either. Dean saying he thought he was a virgin again didn't make any sense, and there's a good reason rehymenation isn't a word, but Sam's been walking on eggshells around his brother lately and hadn't had the heart to contradict him. Especially when Dean looked so excited about the whole thing.

Sam reaches for the remote and shuts the TV off, and then he sits up and shifts around on the bed so he's sitting on the side of it, looking at his brother. "Look, Dean … things've been kinda off between us lately. I know that. And I don't really know why, but … I mean, I'm not gonna pretend to know where your head is at right now. You were in Hell. That's a big deal, even if you don't remember much. And you're still not happy about what I was doing with Ruby – "

"Sam, this isn't about Ruby," Dean says, and he sounds like he means that.

Sam nods. "Okay. Well even still. There isn't a – a _right_ way that this is supposed to go, you know?"

"Yeah. I guess." Dean's still sitting against the pillows and the headboard, his legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankle; very deliberately not facing Sam.

"Jamie seemed cool. C'mon, pretty, blond, unattached, she's the kinda person you _should_ be hooking up with. I get that."

"It wasn't … it isn't that simple," Dean says quietly, staring down at his own hands in his lap.

"I get that too. I'm sure it isn't. I'm just saying you don't owe me an explanation."

Dean huffs and looks away. "So then why do I feel like I do?"

"I don't know. I guess maybe you feel guilty about it. But you shouldn't."

Finally Dean looks over at him, a small frown wrinkling his forehead, although Sam can't quite manage to read the expression in his eyes. "You really don't care that I slept with her?"

"It's not that I don't care. It's just that I know there's no rulebook here." Sam chews on his bottom lip and drags his fingers through his hair. "I don't know. You were dead, man. It's not like either of us ever thought you were gonna come back. I mean, don't get me wrong. I can't even _tell_ you how happy I am that you are back. But this isn't something either of us thought we were gonna hafta deal with. We're both trying to figure this out as we go. It's okay if it takes a while."

Dean nods and looks away again. He doesn't look happy, but he doesn't look exactly sad either, and Sam doesn't want to push him. Dean's going through something since he's been back, something Sam doesn't understand, but Sam is going through something Dean doesn't understand too. It's like they're at equal levels of misunderstanding each other, which only makes things better in that at least they're on the same page of _not_ being on the same page.

"I'm gonna take a shower," Sam says after a moment, tossing Dean a small smile and then making his way to the bathroom.

He strips and steps into the stall, the water bursting from the faucet cool at first but warming up relatively quickly, and Sam closes his eyes and drops his head forward and lets the hot water pelt onto his shoulders and relax him. As far as hunts go, this one was neat and tidy; it wrapped up quickly with a small number of casualties and both he and Dean walked away uninjured, so Sam's at least thankful for that. What look at first like simple monster hunts always have the potential to go sideways.

After a minute or two, the door-hinges creak as it opens, and Sam looks up. He can't see anything through the shower curtain except for a shadow on the other side.

"Dean?" he asks, only slightly cautiously because the chances of it being anyone else are almost next to nothing.

"D'you, uh … mind?" Dean voice asks slowly, and Sam frowns for a moment before he understands what Dean's asking.

"Oh. No, I – 'course not."

There's shuffling on the other side of the curtain that sounds like Dean taking his clothes off, and then the curtain pulls back at the end and Dean steps into the tub with him. Sam barely gets a look at him before Dean's crowding up into his space, wrapping his arms around Sam's neck, and smushing their lips together in a kiss that takes Sam completely by surprise. He slides his arms around Dean's back automatically, kissing him back because it's instinct, and pulling Dean even more into his space as blood rushes almost instantly south – his body reacting to Dean's like it always has. Dean kisses him swiftly, pushing his tongue into Sam's mouth and swirling it around, and Sam's tasted this particular kiss enough times in his life to know it for the apology that it is. Even, still, it's better than nothing. Sam's the one who screwed up, sneaking around with Ruby and not telling Dean about it, so he'll take whatever Dean's willing to give him. It's more than he deserves anyway.

Dean kisses him breathless, sucking at his lips and squeezing handfuls of his hair, and when Sam's lungs start screaming for breath and he has to pull away, Dean starts kissing his neck, his shoulder, down his chest. He lowers himself slowly to his knees, smearing his lips along Sam's wet skin as he does, and Sam blinks in the confusion of how fast this is happening – and how much he wasn't expecting it. Dean nuzzles into the hair at the base of his quickly hardening cock, his hands squeezing the cheeks of Sam's ass, and Sam brushes a hand through Dean's damp hair.

"Dean," he mumbles, wishing Dean would look at him. "Dean, what're you …"

He doesn't get to finish the sentence. Dean licks up along his shaft and then swirls his tongue around the head, taking Sam's cock into his mouth before it's even fully hard. The unexpected pleasure rolls through Sam and he sways a little on his feet, swearing under his breath.

"Dean," he says again, but Dean ignores him. He bobs his head, letting Sam's dick slide in and out of his mouth, instantly quick and dirty before Sam's brain has a second to get itself around what's going on. Dean sucks him like he's going for the record, stroking Sam's shaft almost roughly with one hand and digging half-moon shaped fingernails into his ass with the other. Sam's head spins, confusion and arousal swirling around inside it; competing for his attention in a brain that can't concentrate on much anyway other than the feeling of Dean's lips wrapped around his cock.

Dean pushes his tongue under the head, sucking hard and letting Sam slip into his throat, and the heat and the pressure is too much. The stirrings of an orgasm build in his gut, too quickly for him to have any control over them. He's knees tremble with the effort of staying upright and his muscles clench, pleasure firing through his veins like lightening. He manages to push weakly at Dean's shoulder just before he loses it, but Dean ignores him and keeps on sucking around Sam as Sam grunts and explodes down his brother's throat. He twitches with the intensity of it; his body not even sure whether it feels good or not, and Dean swallows it all even as tears spill from his eyes – tears Sam doesn't know the cause of, not that he has the capacity to put too much thought into it anyway.

Eventually, Dean drags the back of his hand over his mouth and stands up, and starts moving away. Sam's head is still fuzzy and his knees still weak, but he manages to get with it enough to grab his brother before he can leave. He pulls Dean in and kisses him, as gently and lovingly as he can, pouring emotions into it he doesn't have a firm grasp on himself but thinks maybe Dean needs to feel. Dean kisses him back for a minute or two, soft and sweet, but then he removes himself from Sam's arms and steps out of the shower. Sam listens to Dean briefly drying himself off and then leaving the bathroom altogether, and Sam stands there, blinking as the water still cascades down on him, completely disorientated over what just happened. His mind races as he finishes what he actually came in here to do – scrubbing soap on his body and shampoo through his hair – and then he turns the water off and rubs a scratchy towel over himself.

When Sam comes back out of the bathroom, Dean's lying in one of the beds on his side, facing toward the door and away from Sam. Sam drags his palm over his mouth like Dean usually does, still confused and a little wobbly from the unanticipated orgasm but mostly just upset because _something_ is wrong with Dean, and Sam knows he can't ask. Dean wouldn't tell him if he did. Sam doesn't know what to do. The last thing he wants is to make things worse, but he can't, _can't_, just get into the other bed and go to sleep like nothing happened. He pulls the towel from around his waist and tosses it back into the bathroom – not caring that he's naked because it looks like Dean still is too, even though there's a sheet covering him – and crawling into the bed behind his brother.

"Sam," Dean mumbles, like he wants Sam to go away, but there's no way Sam's listening.

He moves in close to his brother's back, pressing himself along Dean's body from his shoulders to his feet, and slides an arm over Dean's stomach. He kisses the back of Dean's neck and doesn't say anything, because he doesn't know what he _would_ say even if he thought Dean could handle hearing it. After a moment, Dean sighs shakily and relaxes just a little, leaning back into Sam's chest, and Sam nuzzles into his hair. Sam doesn't know what's happening right now, he just has this image in his head of the two of them lying there, shattered to pieces over something neither of them understand. And like always, probably holding onto each other is the only thing that might get them through it and let them come back out the other side when the sun comes up tomorrow. So Sam tightens his arm around Dean and closes his eyes.

As Sam's limbs get heavy and his mind quiets, he feels Dean's arm slide over his; fingers intertwining with Sam's and pulling their joined hands up to rest just under Dean's chin. Sam licks his lips and finds himself suddenly blinking back tears. The only thing that breaks his heart more than Dean not needing him is when Dean _does_ need him, and Sam still doesn't know how to help.


End file.
